I’ve been painting for as long as I can remember, but it wasn’t until I stepped into motherhood and moved through a decade of change, four cities, new people, and new routines, that I understood the meaning of my art. My paintings capture the emotional texture of the world around me: the intensity and playfulness, chaos and clarity that shape daily life. I want each piece to spark recognition for the viewer, a sense of familiarity when color and form create something you’ve felt before, but can’t quite name.

These emotional textures find their way onto canvas through organic physical gesture as much as deliberate choice. I often dance while I paint, my hands moving across the surface the way they once learned to move across piano keys in childhood. The paintings become records of that physical conversation, where memory, music, and movement leave their mark. As an artist, I strive to capture permanence for something inherently temporary: the emotions and experiences that disappear. Paint can hold what is otherwise fleeting.